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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796820">Blooming Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Coming Out, Delirium, Epic Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Rating May Change, Sickfic, jiraoro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:54:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is impossible to determine when his affliction exactly began, but Orochimaru can guarantee that flower petals fell from his mouth as a young child. Although his disposition and general appearance marks himself to others as stoic, unkind, and creepy, Orochimaru’s capacity for love is staggering and overwhelming. So, he hides his feelings as naturally as breathing like any mortal being who relies on functioning lungs and a red beating heart. Emotions serve no purpose during hard times, thus Orochimaru seals his feelings away into the depths of his mind where his natural needs are. He sees his parents there, sees the face of the foolish boy who caught his attention.</p><p>He hides the flower petals, too.</p><p>Well, isn’t he the foolish one?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jiraiya/Orochimaru (Naruto)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. when did I begin with you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tbh the likelihood of me finishing this is slim to none but I had an itch to scratch so here it is!</p><p>hope you enjoy, thank you for reading</p><p> </p><p>This fic was also inspired by a piece of artwork of Orochimaru afflicted with Hanahaki's Disease</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Yo, Orochimaru!” Jiraiya jogs up to him, his friend, with a sly grin that betrays the perverted nature of his schemes. “Wanna come to the bathhouse with me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru’s heart cracks and chips piece by piece whenever Jiraiya asks for his company to the women’s bathhouse, but his heart doesn’t break. He is stronger than that, more resilient than that, or so he deludes himself in order to violently shove away the pain that comes with a cracking heart. His eyes narrow, but otherwise his expression is rather neutral.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you focus on training instead?” He says, offering a polite suggestion. His head tilts to the direction of the training grounds, and he rolls his shoulders into a natural shrug. “Sarutobi-sensei would be pleased if you invested your time more wisely.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya dramatically rolls his eyes, encroaches into his personal space, and slaps his hands onto his shoulders. The boy actively starts pushing him in the opposite direction of the training grounds. “Sarutobi-sensei says this, Sarutobi-sensei says that—whatever! I need to have a break every once in a while, and y’know what? So do you. The bathhouse is the perfect place for that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru flinches from his touch, but the tension in his shoulders relaxes due to the warmth of his palms, which is why he resists very little as Jiraiya pushes him along. He casts a long suffering glance at Jiraiya, which becomes forlorn as he looks to the training grounds. “Can we not?” He asks plainly and cynically, but his feet begin to move on their own accord.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re going.” Jiraiya grins, and he leans forward to whisper giddy words meant only for Orochimaru to hear despite no one else being around. “And we’ll get to check out all of the hot babes from this new hiding spot I found last night. The angle is just perfect!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya doesn’t see the pain tumultuously swirling within his golden eyes, but Orochimaru endures. Orochimaru coughs, and then he clears his throat. He grimaces at the sudden flare of hurt in his chest and the tickle within his throat that refuses to go away. Yet the moment passes as easily as it came.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you okay?” Jiraiya asks, concerned. Jiraiya turns Orochimaru around to face him. “Are you getting sick again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he lies seamlessly. “Are you going to keep pushing me around Konoha like a ragdoll?” He retorts mockingly, although there is no venom to it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya hums happily. “Well, I could. You’re pretty scrawny, Orochimaru. Maybe you should eat more.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru huffs and quickly jabs Jiraiya in his side, which startles the other shinobi enough to release his shoulders. Jiraiya yelps, covers his side with a hand, and looks at Orochimaru as if he had grievously wounded him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell!” He shouts, pointing accusingly at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That didn’t hurt.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, it just—just caught me off guard! Shut up, don’t look at me like that, you smug bastard. Just, c’mon. We’re going.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru sighs to himself and falls into step with Jiraiya to the bathhouse, gazing at the sky to estimate the time of day. Late evening, he would suppose when the sun sets for the moon to rise. If he squints, he can see some twinkling stars dot along the blanket of vivid colors of the sky. His gaze shifts occasionally to Jiraiya, who is capable of talking and talking whereas he merely listens. He likes the chatter, and, more importantly, he likes the attention served his way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns inwardly, wondering when his life began to spark when they were together and then lay dormant when they parted. Despite their destination, Orochimaru can enjoy their leisurely stroll to the bathhouse, as it is really the only enjoyable aspect of this trip. Even though the pain in his chest sharpens whenever Jiraiya’s shoulder brushes against his own, the genin cherishes those slight moments of contact. He sets these moments apart from his collective memories to store them into the deeper reaches of his mind, the place where thoughts, feelings, and memories truly matter. Jiraiya and he are good, </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends, despite what may appear on the surface with their one sided rivalry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru is woefully unprepared to be in love, but that tiny core within his heart made that decision for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, even the pain feels good.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they arrive at the bathhouse, they do so in a stealthy manner to not alert any patrons or attendants. Orochimaru falls behind Jiraiya to allow the other boy to show him this “perfect” hiding spot with the “perfect” angle, which was awkwardly stationed up a tree that could support both of their weights combined. However, to Jiraiya’s credit, he did manage to find an undetected, small and damaged portion of the roof through which to peep. Miserably, Orochimaru is beside himself as Jiraiya oogles all of the unsuspecting women inside the bathhouse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru does not have any intentions to linger around here for much longer when he just feels so terrible. Needless to say, this sort of activity is also highly inappropriate and uncomfortable. He even feels sort of bad for encouraging Jiraiya for this behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, Orochimaru!” He whispers excitedly. “Look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>! That black haired chick! She is so hot!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru hardly spares a glance. “Hmn,” he grunts quietly, drawing a pout from the other boy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Jiraiya whines and hits his shoulder, “why don’t you live a little? Did you even look?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really,” he admits almost too readily, shrugging his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you even look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the girls?” Jiraiya scoffs, rolls his eyes, and redirects his attention to more “important” matters. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>girls.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart sinks and his body goes cold, his palms becoming clammy with an unusually nervous energy. He tries to maintain a cool demeanor as his gaze shifts to Jiraiya from some random point on the wall at which he was stubbornly staring. Orochimaru worries his bottom lip as a pregnant silence blossoms between them, and certainly he is more disturbed by it than Jiraiya is. He doesn’t believe that Jiraiya has even noticed anything change between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he knows Jiraiya. Jiraiya is a fool, certainly, but Jiraiya is kind to him when no one else, excluding Sarutobi-sensei and Tsunade, spares any of their kindness for him. Jiraiya likes to spend his time by eating and training and with Tsunade and him, but he likes to spend time with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orochimaru</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So suddenly, Orochimaru realizes he trusts Jiraiya with a lot more than just his own life. Softly, almost within the realm of being timid, Orochimaru carefully asks, “What if I don’t?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Jiraiya turns to him after a moment of confusion, his brows furrowed as if he misheard him. “Say somethin’?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru barely manages to control the quiver in his voice. “Girls,” he swallows thickly, and a certain tickle returns to the back of his throat. “What if I don’t look at them?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya is eerily silent, and it terrifies Orochimaru until he realizes that Jiraiya appears genuinely clueless. Inwardly infuriated, Orochimaru watches the slow gears in Jiraiya’s head begin to overheat with exertion. “What do you mean?” he asks, bemused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs. “I don’t like girls, Jiraiya.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, nodding as if the statement made the most logical sense in the world. Then, realization dawns on Jiraiya immediately afterwards, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You don’t like girls.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru hides behind the comfort and safety behind his bangs, concealing his face, unwilling to meet Jiraiya’s eyes. The awkward silence that Orochimaru felt before morphs into one of resignation, and the boy awaits for the utter rejection of their friendship with a heavy soul. The silence crushes him with the weight of the world, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. The pain within his chest grows and grows, and it is overbearing in its intensity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, to his surprise, Jiraiya lifts the world for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya is awkwardly glancing back at the hole in the bathhouse wall before his gaze returns to Orochimaru. He sheepishly grins while he scratches the back of his head, and he tentatively asks, “Hey, Orochimaru, do you wanna get out of here? I don’t think it’s too late to get dango.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru peaks at Jiraiya through his black hair and slowly nods, feeling his racing pulse settling down from its rapidfire beat. The tiniest sign of a smile ghosts onto his mouth, but, as soon as he attempts to agree, opening his mouth to speak, he begins to cough. The sort of cough that rattles deep within the chest, present and violent and loud, and renders the throat raw from abuse. Orochimaru covers his mouth in the crook of his arm to muffle himself to the best of his ability.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Faintly, he hears a couple of women startle from within the steamy bathhouse. He can hear another voice point out the hole in the building.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” panics a wide-eyed Jiraiya, who waves his arms wildly at Orochimaru, “you’re gonna get us caught! Keep it down!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru glares at the other as he coughs, which honestly sounds truly awful and hoarse. Enduring enough of this tree perching, Orochimaru descends from the branch and practically disappears from Jiraiya’s vision, and then he finds himself standing alone within a small clearing within the village.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He coughs and hacks, sounding nothing short of dreadful when abruptly that strange tickle at the back of his throat morphs into a more awful, acute pain. It is as if a foreign object is stuck in his windpipe, and that he can’t get it out. Orochimaru feels like he is choking on </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so he desperately wills the natural instinct of his body to calm from its panic to focus on survival. He coughs even harder for a time, with success—whatever is lodged in his throat creeps upwards into his mouth. This odd, smooth texture against his tongue disturbs the boy as much as the fretful feeling of choking did, and he hacks out at the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Truthfully, he expected specks of blood. Thankfully, there is none of that, but Orochimaru startles at the sight of a single flower petal on the ground.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>He stares at the petal with no small amount of curiosity in this short time of reprieve from Jiraiya, and he stares at the petal with no small amount of concern and confusion. Rolling through his memories, Orochimaru cannot remember if he suffered a particular jutsu while out on  mission beyond the village walls with his teammate, but it certainly wasn’t a genjutsu. The young shinobi frowns; he cannot identify what sort of flower to which this petal belonged, either. Admittedly, the red and white petal could belong to a very beautiful flower species, but it could also be a highly toxic plant that could render Orochimaru severely ill.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All he does know is that the experience was thoroughly unpleasant and disgusting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You bastard!” He whips around when Jiraiya calls for him, and the other boy is closing the distance between them more quickly than anticipated. “I knew you were getting sick! Man, now you’ve compromised my super secret and </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> hiding spot and they’ll repair that wall for sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, I appreciate your concern,” Orochimaru hisses sarcastically beneath his breath, snapping at Jiraiya. He bristles at the lack of concern for his wellbeing, and it stings Orochimaru like an aching sore from a bothersome wound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, hold on, don’t get pissy with me,” says Jiraiya, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright, Orochimaru, I am sorry. Let’s forget about the whole bathhouse thing for a second because are you okay? You sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps... I may be coming down with a cold after all.” Again, Orochimaru lies, but telling Jiraiya that he coughed out a flower petal sounds mentally exhausting. He doesn’t even know where to begin, and he doesn’t want to try to convince Jiraiya that he has not, in fact, been eating copious amounts of flowers. It wouldn’t do any good to pass an answer to Jiraiya when he knows nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There are occasions when Jiraiya seems oddly </span>
  <em>
    <span>insightful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jiraiya is scrutinizing his words and expression with an almost otherworldly sort of calm, a type of insight beyond his years. Orochimaru expects when Jiraiya develops and matures with worldly experiences in the next few years, Jiraiya will be an exceptional shinobi capable of reading a room and responding appropriately in kind. But for now, Jiraiya is an incredible bullshit-detector when he pays attention. Orochimaru brushes some of his black hair behind his ear, vying for a casual movement rather than a sheepish one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should skip training tomorrow,” sniffs Jiraiya, unimpressed. “I’ll tell Sarutobi-sensei that you’re sick.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru quells the protests bubbling inside of him. His chest still hurts. Quietly, Orochimaru just nods, tired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll walk you home. Don’t want you to like, pass out in the middle of the road or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru quirks an eyebrow at the imagery and sighs. “Could we still get dango?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya looks sorely tempted to say no, but ultimately he relents. “Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never imagined that Jiraiya would offer to pay for his meal. Perhaps he feels guilty for snapping at Orochimaru for an action obviously beyond his control, but spending more time with Jiraiya like this more than makes up for it. Privately, he figures that his mere presence is pleasing enough and wonders if Jiraiya would return the sentiment. Regardless, night time has truly fallen over Konoha, and the two genin are walking together to Orochimaru’s home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” says Jiraiya after a mouthful of dango. “You don’t like girls?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru is just grateful that his friend has the common sense not to speak too loudly upon the subject. Slowly and carefully, he nods. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” It is a fair question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I just don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, then... do you like guys?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are awfully inquisitive tonight,” murmurs Orochimaru.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno... I guess I’m just trying to understand you, Orochimaru. I have been for awhile now, but I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job at it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t expect that. A small blush creeps onto his face before he is able to compose himself again, and suddenly a new nervous energy revitalizes him. “I like reading.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jiraiya pouts. “That’s not the question I asked.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru, strangely emboldened, continues, “I like to read scrolls. I like training and studying new jutsu. I like befriending and talking to snakes. I like the way the sunlight feels on my skin, and I like hearing the wind rustle the leaves on the trees surrounding Konoha.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, but you still didn’t answer my question.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My point,” he emphasizes softly, “is that if you want to understand me, then you will need to ask better questions.” Satisfied with the imparted wisdom and his initial intention to dodge the question, Orochimaru bites into his dango and savours its flavors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Do you have a type?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A noise of disappointment sounds from him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I like girls.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mildly confused by the declaration and hurting from it, Orochimaru spares the other boy a glance before looking off ahead, away from Jiraiya. He quietly huffs, “Evidently.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Within minutes, Jiraiya and Orochimaru reach the latter’s large home, isolated from most other homes within this section of the village. Sometimes, when intrusive and unwelcome thoughts escape from the depths of his psyche, the estate seems too lonely for Orochimaru to bare. Ghostly memories of his father and mother enjoy haunting him, but he routinely convinces himself that those memories linger around to protect him, to guard against loneliness. It is the only way for Orochimaru to endure this house, even though the memory of his mother’s smile fades a little each day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orochimaru turns to Jiraiya with a heavy heart. “Thank you for the food.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get some rest, okay?” Jiraiya grins at him. “I don’t want to catch whatever you’ve got.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would have already,” he points out. “We have been together all day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever, whatever! G’night, Orochimaru.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Jiraiya run off to his home until he is no longer in sight before heading inside. That night, he struggles with this bizarre pain in his chest, struggles to breathe. He does not cough with such intensity as before, wondering if that flower petal was real or not. However, that night he dreams of a foolish boy with white hair and red markings and a wide grin, holding a beautiful flower to him, for him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. instead, we'll suffer together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, check this out, I wrote another chapter!</p><p>hope you all enjoy, thank you, and I would appreciate any Kudos or comments my way</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole incident with the lone flower petal at the bathhouse was a dream, or that is what Orochimaru convinces himself. More precisely, Orochimaru <em> tried </em> to convince himself that it was all a dream and failed, because his throat is sore and protests against swallowing. He also feels sluggish and unwilling to accomplish anything of remark, especially if that involves remaining awake long enough to do anything remarkable. He is content to remain in bed, which is beyond unusual since he prefers to keep busy by researching a standing interest or by training. Right now, the mere thought of performing a basic D-rank mission for the village sounds incredibly unpleasant. But he must keep moving.</p><p> </p><p>As Orochimaru trudges around his home, he contemplates if he should tell anyone about the incident. He ultimately decides against it, as the whole situation is difficult to explain and ludicrous enough all on its own. He decided as much last night when he opted to not tell Jiraiya what had happened. However, he sees no harm in learning more about the true nature of this ailment, which could prove to be beneficial if he can quell this bizarre chest pain. Maybe the ailment could actually be a real disease.</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs. No real disease makes you cough up plants.</p><p> </p><p>Returning to his bedroom, Orochimaru’s thoughts drift towards Jiraiya again. Orochimaru doesn’t need much, but he always wants more of what he doesn’t have. He thinks he would like to hold Jiraiya’s hand as he struggles throughout all of this confusion. Walking through the village and listening to his chatter, they could eat all of the dango and sweets to their utmost content. Jiraiya would look and smile at him, would <em> see </em> him. Orochimaru truly believes that such happiness can exist in his world if Jiraiya could peer into his soul a little deeper.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Jiraiya tells me that you have fallen ill again,” remarks Hiruzen, who is standing before his pupil’s front door with a small white bag in hand. “That is unusual for you. Ah, well, I have brought medicinal herbs for you to brew with your tea.”</p><p> </p><p>With a small smile, Orochimaru accepts the herbs from his teacher. “I can assure you that I feel better, sensei.” </p><p> </p><p>Which is, ultimately, a lie, even after lazing about his home. Orochimaru is not above picking and choosing his truths, but <em>the</em> one truth is that the fatigue has yet to pass and that his movements remain sluggish beyond those first morning hours. If he returned to training, his performance would be pitiful, if not downright laughable. His pride would surely implode from the merciless teasing of his teammates, and he would have to slither off into a hole somewhere and just hide forever. Orochimaru withholds a sudden cough from breaching to the surface when his thoughts momentarily turn to Jiraiya.</p><p><br/><br/>“I am glad to hear that, Orochimaru, I truly am. Do you need anything before I return to my duties?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will be fine, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well. Tsunade and Jiraiya seem a little distracted without you there today, so please rest and take it easy. The instructions for brewing tea with those herbs are inside the bag.” Satisfied, Hiruzen turns to leave his home.</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru tenses, blurting out, “Sarutobi-sensei?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Hiruzen looks back at him.</p><p> </p><p>The genin’s fingers lightly tap along the white paper bag as he considers his words carefully, because he didn’t plan what to say at all. He wants to ask about Jiraiya, he wants to ask about strange illnesses, but he is lost for words. Hiruzen watches him, waiting for his pupil to say something. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, nevermind.” He sighs, deflating.</p><p> </p><p>Hiruzen smiles, somewhat confused but still with fondness. “Oh, before I forget, Tsunade was planning to visit you.”</p><p> </p><p>Thoughtful, Orochimaru nods. “Alright. Thank you, Sarutobi-sensei.”</p><p>
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</p><p>“To your knowledge, have you ever heard of someone coughing up flower petals?” Orochimaru presses Tsunade, hoping to come across as nonchalant for an answer that he is burning to know. The genin sips his medicinal tea and frowns at its bitter taste, casting his eyes over the scrolls that Tsunade brought for him. He can’t help but feel a tad spoiled by her. </p><p> </p><p>Tsunade observes her friend with a smile quirked in amusement as she sorts through the scrolls. Afterwards, clasping her hands together, she leans forward with interest. “Isn’t that an old maid’s tale?”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mm, yeah. It is. Why do you ask?”</p><p> </p><p>“Curiosity,” he murmurs. “How does the story go?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Orochimaru, it’s not the most pleasant story, but... As they say, once, a fair maiden fell in love with a man who didn’t even know she existed. She became so lovesick over him that she actually got ill, so flower petals began falling from the fair maiden’s mouth. If I remember correctly, the disease progresses to the point where the maiden is coughing up whole, entire flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>A stab of dread pierces through Orochimaru, but he masks that dread behind a thin veneer of mild interest as he asks, “What happened to her?”</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade bobs her head side to side in contemplative thought. “There are multiple endings, especially since old maid’s tales tend to scramble after generations. Personally, I’ve heard the ending where she dies because the man never returns her love, but I’ve also heard another ending where the exact opposite happens.”</p><p> </p><p>“That hardly seems fair,” he sneers.</p><p> </p><p>“I never said that it was! But I do prefer the happier the ending between the two, if I had to choose.”</p><p> </p><p>The story steeps Orochimaru in bitterness, much like this herbal tea, unwittingly casting his mind toward Jiraiya once more. His mind swirls with undesirable thoughts of future possibilities, so much so that it quickly becomes overwhelming. It is only a story, he tries to persuade himself, yet all stories have grains of truth to them. But there is no existing possibility of Jiraiya ever returning his feelings, and what makes him believe that he feels <em> love </em> for Jiraiya anyway? What has love ever returned but absolute, heartwrenching misery?</p><p> </p><p>What if he dies before finding his mother and father?<br/><br/>Everything goes fuzzy and black.<br/><br/>Distantly, Orochimaru can hear Tsunade shouting, can register that she pries his teacup from his hands to prevent the hot liquid from spilling into his lap. He is coughing again, but it is much more powerful than the instance at the bathhouse. Coughing like sandpaper, inside his throat, smoothing over his flesh and rendering his heart bare and raw. Yet, this mortal pain cannot compare to this sudden mental anguish, the experience of being lost within a dense and dark wood. There is no light, no warmth, and no escape.</p><p> </p><p>He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, and he is heaving with exorbitant effort, that odd sensation crawling up out of his throat again. There is a gentle hand against his back that Orochimaru cannot feel, and he deliriously wonders where Jiraiya went in this damnable forest. Jiraiya went in this forest and got lost here too, and Orochimaru has to find him.</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya, <em> Jiraiya </em>...</p><p> </p><p>But <em> Tsunade </em> is here.</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade brushes and holds back his hair from his face as he retches, but all he produces is another singular flower petal, which falls from his mouth into his lap. He startles. Immediately, air flows in and out of his windpipe with no obstructions, and he is gasping for breath, feeling so exposed and vulnerable in the most terrible way. His vision slowly clears with time, and Tsunade is there as his anchor and Orochimaru feels so thankful and resentful for it. He never wanted to be seen like this, so weak, so frail, by her.</p><p> </p><p>A stunned silence settles between them.</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru, tired and miserable, idly looks down at the red flower petal on his lap.<br/><br/>“Orochimaru?” she stammers in pure disbelief, breaking the tension. However, all of the indisputable proof is right there, unwillingly given and received in kind. </p><p> </p><p>His voice is raspy as he speaks softly, finding it too difficult to speak above a whisper. “That story... Which ending is more commonly told?”</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade swallows hard. She does not answer Orochimaru, but her silence is enough.</p><p> </p><p>He blinks as Tsunade settles beside him, embracing him within her arms as if to shield him from the world. It is a distant wonder for Orochimaru, who is trying to understand what she hopes to accomplish, before he realizes that Tsunade is trying to comfort him. By no means is Orochimaru a delicate person, but he thinks that he might need this. He closes his eyes and sighs, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder and enjoying the warmth of another body against his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey. Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear me?” she nervously reassures, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. His hair is soft to the touch. “Did this happen the last time you got sick?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he murmurs. “Last night was the first experience with the flower petals.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, the old maid’s tale is really true then?”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems like it is so.”</p><p> </p><p>“So... were you going to tell me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see. So, who is it then? Who are you in love with?” </p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru tenses. “Who says that I am in love?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s how the story goes!” Tsunade bristles, and she is unable to keep her hot temper from slipping out of control. “This isn’t the time to be a stubborn ass, Orochimaru! Your life is in danger, and you could die! What the hell are we supposed to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘We?’” In a moment of wisdom, Orochimaru says no smart remarks about how he is the only person between them coughing up plants. He doesn’t need to rile Tsunade’s indignant rage any further. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes ‘we!’ By god, Orochimaru! We are friends! I’m not going to let you suffer alone through this!”</p><p> </p><p>The ill genin softens somewhat, scrutinizes his situation properly, and then he strains to speak. “Fine, then. You said it yourself: these sorts of tales warp throughout the generations, spawning multiple, different endings, so perhaps this isn’t a death sentence. But I am still not telling you who it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you aren’t willing to say anything about who it is, then does that mean... Orochimaru, are you <em> embarrassed </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru is thankful that his expression is hidden from his teammate’s view, because he is blushing. “Save your dramatics.” </p><p> </p><p>“I wonder who it could be,” ponders Tsunade out loud with genuine curiosity and confusion. “You’re kind of a loner; I don’t think I have ever seen you hang out with anybody else. You’re either with us, studying, or performing a mission that Sarutobi-sensei gave you.”</p><p> </p><p>He maintains perfect composure as Tsunade dumps the puzzle pieces on table to solve. It concerns Orochimaru how quickly and accurately she is assembling the picture together, and that picture is simply Jiraiya.</p><p> </p><p>“Regardless,” he interrupts her train of thought, “we will learn more if you can identify what type of flower petal it is. Perhaps there is even a medicine that could impede this disease from progressing.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good idea,” she says, nodding, before her expression contorts into mild disgust. “Uhm. It’s a little... <em> wet</em>. You know, because you practically threw it up.”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru rolls his eyes, tugging from Tsunade’s embrace. Sitting up properly, Orochimaru inspects the flower petal with a frown and decides that Tsunade shouldn’t touch it. There is a possibility that this disease is contagious, and he needs to avoid any unnecessary risks to Tsunade’s good health. He instructs Tsunade to find and retrieve the white bag that Hiruzen gifted to him earlier in the kitchen, and Orochimaru handles and places the flower petal into that bag with care.</p><p> </p><p>He passes the bag to her. “Don’t touch it with your bare hands,” he warns.</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade nods up receiving the white bag. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” The kunoichi walks to Orochimaru’s front door before pausing, turning around. “You know, I don’t think Sarutobi-sensei needs to be involved yet if we can get this under control, but I’m telling Jiraiya that something is wrong with you. He is your friend too.”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru’s fists clench and then relax. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll be okay, Orochimaru, you’ll survive. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t bet on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have a tendency to lose,” he drawls. “I’d rather not die."</p><p> </p><p>“Smartass.”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. your very own fairy tale ending</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, thank you for reading and I always appreciate kudos and comments!</p><p> </p><p>I'm actually having a lot of fun writing this, so let's keep the ball rolling for as long and as far it can go!</p><p>enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you even talking about?” Jiraiya blurts, dumbfounded and wide-eyed. Disbelief etches onto his brows, because this frankly<em> wild </em> story about Orochimaru hacking up petals from a mysterious flower makes no goddamn sense. Honestly, it is difficult imagine much that could even slightly disfigure that ironclad composure that his friend has mastered, forget whatever bullshit Tsunade is talking about. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m being serious, idiot! Orochimaru is sick, really sick!” Tsunade holds the little white bag containing such a flower petal in front of Jiraiya’s face, as if it will provide all of the proof the boy needs. “We need to act fast so that he doesn’t get any worse.” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me an idiot!” Irritated, Jiraiya shoves the bag away from his face. “I was with Orochimaru the whole day yesterday, and I didn’t see any damn petals or anything weird. Besides, isn’t that whole ‘puking flowers’ thing just a fairy tale, anyway?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was with Orochimaru earlier and watched him go through a fit! Jiraiya, it was awful. I thought he was actually going to cough up blood, but he hacked up a weird flower petal instead.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya frowns, scratching his cheek in thought. A part of him believes that he is being pranked by his teammates, but the other part recognizes that Orochimaru doesn’t do pranks and that Tsunade seems genuinely perturbed by whatever she saw. He remembers that fit Orochimaru endured at the bathhouse yesterday, grimly wondering if he might have actually missed something important. However, all he can remember is how worried he felt and that awful, chest-rattling sound from his friend. </p><p> </p><p>“He still sounds that bad?” He asks, lips pressing into a thin line of worry.</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade nods. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“... I thought he was gonna cough up blood, too.” Jiraiya leans back in his seat. </p><p> </p><p>“Here,” insists Tsunade, sliding the white bag over the table to him. “Open the bag and take a look for yourself, just don’t touch it. Orochimaru thinks it might be contagious.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine.” Jiraiya reluctantly does as instructed, and, as expected, it’s a gross, red flower petal. Kinda wet, kinda soggy, as if it came from someone’s mouth or something. He promptly closes the bag before he might have the chance to throw up, and he glances up at Tsunade. </p><p> </p><p>The kunoichi watches him expectantly.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, so... Let’s say that this fairy tale is actually true, and Orochimaru is really sick in a special kind of way. What are we supposed to do about it?” Jiraiya frowns. </p><p> </p><p>“Orochimaru says that we might be able to learn more about the disease if we can identify the type of flower the petal belongs to. Have you ever seen anything like it?” </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno. Don’t think so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn,” she curses. “I guess we’ll need to do some research.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya whines inwardly before, casting a resigned and defeated glance at the white bag before becoming somewhat excited. His palms slap on the table, and he hunches forward with a conspiratory glee in his eyes. “Tsu-na-de! I have a better idea.” </p><p> </p><p>“God, what?”</p><p> </p><p>“If that dumb fairy tale is true, why don’t we just find out who Orochimaru likes and matchmake them together?” He is a genius, he thinks to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade rolls her eyes. “There are problems with that idea. One, just because Orochimaru likes someone doesn’t mean that person will return his feelings, such is the inherent tragedy of the old maid’s tale. Two, I don’t know who it is. I don’t even have a single clue because Orochimaru is so private about this sort of thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense, Tsunade!” The more Jiraiya thinks about it, the more excited he becomes. The more excited he becomes, the more he chatters on about it. “This is a matter that only romantics like me can truly appreciate! An illness that can only be cured by true love—hell, the snake bastard’s true love! This is the kind of story destined for two people meant to be together! I don’t think you’ll be able to find a shred of information that could help with Orochimaru discovering his very own fairy tale ending. Damn, I think I’m jealous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, aren’t you fired up all of a sudden?” She huffs. “I don’t think you’d be saying that if you were coughing up a lung.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well... Whatever! I can find out who Orochimaru likes, and then I’ll figure it out from there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jiraiya that isn’t very helpful—”</p><p> </p><p>“As a professional lover, one could say, I can give Orochimaru pointers on how to woo the person he’s aching for,” says Jiraiya, winking. </p><p> </p><p>“You just want to get out of doing research,” she accuses angrily, gripping onto the paper bag with an unnecessary amount of force. It concerns Jiraiya that she might be crushing the flower petal, but he avoids the topic in case it’ll anger Tsunade further.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, hear me out then! I’m pretty useless when it comes to researching stuff like that, but instead maybe I can coax some useful information out of Orochimaru. Besides, someone needs to watch over Orochimaru so that he doesn’t kill over, right? Might as well be me. If Orochimaru has another episode, then I’ll be there to take him straight to the hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>She grunts in halfhearted acknowledgement of his argument. “You can’t keep an eye on him the whole time, though. We still have training and other responsibilities to the village.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s better than nothing,” he points out, and then he frowns as his excitement wanes. “Don’t you think we should tell Sarutobi-sensei?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to tell sensei if he gets any worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your face is so grim, Jiraiya. He’ll be fine.” Tsunade smiles reassuringly.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” he sighs. “Orochimaru is strong. You’re right. So, I guess that’s the game plan then? I’ll be on Orochi-babysitting duty while you research for information about the flower?”</p><p> </p><p>“Seems so,” she hums, somewhat peeved about researching alone, “but I think that we should at least take turns.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya groans. “Fine, fine.”</p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>His muscles ache in protest as he shuffles to his front door, and, to his slight surprise upon opening the entrance, Jiraiya is standing there. Leaning against the door frame for support, Orochimaru observes the other curiously and remains silent, waiting for Jiraiya to speak and conserving the little energy he possesses. Although, Orochimaru does note that Jiraiya is carrying a shopping bag with him, and he briefly wonders what this visit is becoming.</p><p> </p><p>“Tsunade told me what was up,” he begins, as if that explanation is enough. When Orochimaru keeps silent, Jiraiya sheepishly continues, “We agreed that while she’s researching the flower, I’d keep an eye on you. I don’t know if it’ll help, but I brought some medicine.” At its mention, Jiraiya raises the bag, and Orochimaru glances at the bag to acknowledge it. “So, can I come in?”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru grunts his approval and steps aside, allowing Jiraiya entry into his home. Perhaps under normal circumstances, he would have tidied his home after Tsunade’s earlier visitation, but he left everything as is. He isn’t too torn up about it though, it’s just not as clean as he prefers his living space to be. Regardless, Jiraiya steps inside, and Orochimaru shuts the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>When Jiraiya turns to inspect him with those insightful eyes of his, Orochimaru can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. “Yes?” He murmurs, his voice raspy.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling?” he asks with genuine concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Tired.” Orochimaru shrugs his shoulders in response, exuding very little energy. “I think I will return to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya blinks, fretfully wondering if that is a normal symptom of his illness. Without any consideration of if Orochimaru would approve, Jiraiya reaches forward to touch his forehead with the back of his hand, assessing his temperature. He feels Orochimaru flinch and then relax. With alarm, he notices that Orochimaru <em> does </em>feel a little warm, but he could be mistaking the warmth of his hand and his forehead together for a fever.</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, think you might be developing a fever,” he says, somewhat embarrassed. “But maybe not. I can’t really tell.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a fever,” his voice drawls, but his heart feels as if it skipped a beat from his touch. Dealing with this damn illness and the pleasant presence of Jiraiya is too overwhelming for him to process. The lingering warmth of his hand feels so comforting that it flings Orochimaru’s thoughts to his desire to hold Jiraiya’s hand in his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, then,” he hums, a little unsure, “back to bed with you!”</p><p> </p><p>With no argument from Orochimaru, the genin trudges in the direction of his personal room, a little wobbly on his feet. He somewhat bristles at his own display of weakness when Jiraiya asks if he needs help walking to his bedroom, but he softens at the suggestion when it doesn’t seem like Jiraiya is judging him. He feels a mild pang of guilt when he remembers his behavior around Tsunade, but he can worry about that later. Orochimaru utilizes Jiraiya’s offered arm to steady his pace as he walks.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never seen you so uncoordinated before,” comments Jiraiya.</p><p> </p><p>His eyebrow twitches. “It won’t be for long, and then you will never see me like this again.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya laughs. “Oh, really? I’ll <em> never </em> see you like this again? Did you pick up fortune telling too?”</p><p> </p><p>“I might have,” he says, rolling his eyes. A faint smile crosses his face before disappearing with a powerful cough, which doesn’t persist after the first bout, much to his relief. Much to his disdain, Orochimaru greatly dislikes that horrible anticipation leading up to the fits, as it has become a toss up between normal coughing or the pain of petals crawling up his throat. Groaning beneath his breath, Orochimaru opens the door, walks into his bedroom, and crawls into his futon, finding peace with the comfort the mattress provides. The pain and disorientation seemingly dissipate when he is not trudging around in jerky movements.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you look cozy?” huffs Jiraiya, amused. </p><p> </p><p>“Quite,” he rasps. </p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru watches Jiraiya’s actions with rapt attention as the other boy settles onto the floor beside his futon and begins rummaging through his shopping bag. The sheer amount of medication that Jiraiya brought astonishes him, and he is reasonably suspicious that a few of these bottles and vials wouldn’t treat his symptoms. It seems likely that Jiraiya grabbed and paid for whatever he thought could possibly help, especially for a disease so unusual. After all, it is an illness borne from ridiculous and childish fairy tales. </p><p> </p><p>However, his heart aches for that foolhardy kindness and determined attitude.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, Jiraiya, unwittingly, makes him feel so special that he could burst at the seams. But now, he strains and struggles to contain his coughs, exerting bodily amounts of genuine effort and occasionally drawing concerned expressions from Jiraiya as he sorting through the medicine.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” he claps his hands together. “Orochimaru, I’m not going to lie to you, I have no idea how to treat ‘puking flowers syndrome,’ so bare with me, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru grunts.</p><p> </p><p>“Great! So, I’ve medicine for headaches, cramps, fever, abdominal pain, congestion, sore throat, vomitting, and coughing. What are your symptoms?”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru sits up in order to inspect the medication laid out before him. “Besides the flower petals... My throat is sore from coughing, and I’m tired.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya nods and selects the medication that he believes would be most effective for him, but he still seems unsure, from what Orochimaru can guess. He decides that he can’t fault Jiraiya for not knowing how to handle such a peculiar circumstance, regardless, he reaches and takes the vial. He reads the instructions for administering the medication and proceeds to do so, finding that the sweet, tangy taste to be a bit much. Yet, he doesn’t care at all, because the liquid medication is soothing his raw and abused throat to the point where swallowing becomes almost tolerable. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Jiraiya,” he murmurs, returning the bottle to him.</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya nods. “You should sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me. But when you wake up, prepare to be interrogated because I wanna know who it is that you like!” </p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru would have choked on his medicine if he hadn’t finished swallowing it already, but he carefully maintains a neutral expression. “Not a chance,” he rasps as he reclines back onto his comfortable futon.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm, sure, we’ll see. After all, I am now fully invested in finding your true love so that you can have your very own fairy tale ending. So, it has to be a guy, right?” He hums thoughtfully, entirely ignorant to Orochimaru’s obvious discomfort. “That doesn’t exactly narrow the pool of potential candidates. In fact, there are more guys than girls in our class, so that actually kind of makes it harder to figure out. ” </p><p> </p><p>What utter nonsense, Orochimaru reflects as he closes his eyes and releases a shaky, longsuffering sigh. In this world, there are no such things as fairy tale endings unless it results in a morbid, poetic death. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Jiraiya</em>,” he croaks. “Please. I would like to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sorry, I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be here if you need me.” </p><p> </p><p>Exhausted, Orochimaru drifts to sleep, vaguely annoyed yet comforted.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. know me as no one else does</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for over 100 hits!!</p><p>to be honest, I do feel genuinely surprised that JiraOro isn't a super popular pairing considering how old (and even ongoing) the Naruto series is, but I am happy to provide for people who also enjoy this ship.</p><p>so, without further delay, please enjoy another chapter of Blooming Heart!! it gets a little more serious</p><p>Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Easily, a week passes for the inhabitants of Konoha, but time crawls along for Team Hiruzen at a slug's pace. Tsunade and Jiraiya spend all of their free time researching the strange red flower or caring for the lethargic Orochimaru, who is bedridden with a fever. The fever is rather minor, but it is persistent like a looming curse. However, more alarming than the fever is that Orochimaru continues to hack up those red flower petals, and Jiraiya will never forget the firsthand experience of witnessing that pain in Orochimaru’s demeanor for the rest of his life. The pale, slight boy with a flushed face, exerting himself with his whole body to produce a tiny, wretched thing into a small basin by his bedside. Jiraiya shudders upon reflection. </p><p> </p><p>After that experience, Jiraiya had persuaded his parents to allow him to stay with Orochimaru at his home until he completely recovers. With a newfound determination, Jiraiya had declared to Orochimaru that he would find a cure for him, which had caused Orochimaru to actually smile.</p><p> </p><p>However, the week had stretched onward with little progress.</p><p> </p><p>Frustratingly, their research on the flower and those mysterious petals, along with any leads to possibly related illnesses, was becoming more and more fruitless by the day, and Orochimaru was falling sicker and sicker. Once, when both Tsunade and Jiraiya were present in Orochimaru’s home during a period of his lucidity, the two had bickered nastily about whether or not to confess the truth of their friend’s illness to Sarutobi-sensei, whether or not to admit Orochimaru into the hospital. That rasping voice had cut clean through their arguments.</p><p> </p><p>“I trust in you both and the decision you will make together,” he had murmured, his voice edging onto a pained whisper, “but please don’t lose your heads in my home.”</p><p> </p><p>The arguments had halted completely as Tsunade had felt the need to dote upon Orochimaru in that moment, but his lack of personal input left Jiraiya confused and worried. Orochimaru was never<em> not </em> opinionated when topical conversations involved himself. But, Orochimaru believed in Tsunade and Jiraiya. He believed in <em> Jiraiya</em> . Jiraiya would have been lying if he said that he wasn’t touched. </p><p> </p><p>As for Sarutobi-sensei, the third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, the man had been scarcely present to train either Tsunade and Jiraiya as of late. The air in Konoha had morphed into a hideous tension that permeated throughout the village. The shinobi, the kunoichi, and even the citizens recognize it, speaking in hushed tones about the fate of their world at large. Jiraiya had seen Sarutobi-sensei only a handful of times this week, and Sarutobi-sensei had always worn a serious expression upon his face, like a chisel etching into stone. In the meantime, their teacher encouraged his students to enjoy their time together, to care for Orochimaru and the village.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Jiraiya peers at the stars from beyond Orochimaru’s bedroom window, admiring the speckled lights and the ascending moon. The soft light creeps into the bedroom, falling just short of the futon where his sleeping friend lies. When Jiraiya peers over to Orochimaru, he frowns at the sight of him, so miserable even in his sleep. The black haired boy, face flushed with fever and with lips slightly parted as if to truly breathe, struggles but refuses to succumb. There is something truly admirable about that, if not a touch bit sad.</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya likes Orochimaru a lot. Although sometimes the guy can be a stubborn, prideful, irritating asshole, that asshole is his best friend, so he implies “asshole” with affection in unconceivable abundance. He isn’t certain if Tsunade and Sarutobi-sensei understand that, and he isn’t certain if Orochimaru understands that either but hopes that he does. After all, he is a genius. </p><p> </p><p>He departs from the window to sit down upon the chair beside the futon, he had retrieved it some time ago, and he watches Orochimaru sleep. He reaches forward to his face, and gently his fingers brush against soft, heated skin as he sweeps aside a lock of raven hair. He has done this before in the last couple nights; Orochimaru hardly responds during slumber, if at all. His sickness doesn’t afford Orochimaru much energy, but he eats foods that are inoffensive to his sore throat, drinks water instead of tea, and reads when he can concentrate.</p><p> </p><p>Then there are rare moments when Orochimaru seems a little off, a little confused. Those moments don’t linger for long, but his eyes appear spacy and unfocused, vulnerable.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m giving the princess one more day before telling Sarutobi-sensei myself,” he whispers, before chuckling sadly beneath his breath to himself. “Kinda crazy, right? She’s the one that said she would tell sensei if you got worse. Don’t take that as a failure on her part. You know how intense she is when she gets passionate about something important. Someone important,” he corrects himself quickly. “I think she needs to do this to prove something to herself—probably to prove that she’s capable of caring for her friends.</p><p> </p><p>“And here I am, sitting here and doing nothing, like a jerk,” sighs Jiraiya, who rubs at his tired eyes. “Who’d you go and fall in love with anyway, you bastard? I wish you’d tell me already. He’d better be worth it, or I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Orochimaru doesn’t respond to him, but talking at him makes Jiraiya feel a little better about himself.</p><p> </p><p>“This is supposed to be a fairy tale,” he murmurs, hunching over onto the edge of the futon. He curls his arms forward to serve as a pillow so that he may bury his face into his arms. “But I don’t like this story if it means that it’s hurting you. Get better already, Orochimaru.”</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the late night’s silence wears on his resolve to stay awake, and the boy dozes off. Upright in the wooden chair, Jiraiya falls asleep beside Orochimaru.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Orochimaru rouses from his slumber, the muscles of his body feeling stiff and achy. His eyes flutter open to the greeting sunlight filtering into his room, and his eyes catch the sight of something white. Drowsily, Orochimaru brings himself upright in his bed, shifting his weight onto his elbows, and then immediately he notices that Jiraiya’s upper body is haphazardly over his bed. Jiraiya is soundly sleeping, partially on his bed, and Orochimaru wonders how long the other boy spent watching over him last night. Although, Orochimaru sighs in exasperation upon noticing that Jiraiya is drooling on his sheets—mind, not in copious amounts, but... enough for Orochimaru to feel justified in complaining about it later.</p><p> </p><p>Although, what really absorbs his attention in its entirety is how close by Jiraiya’s hand is. His hand is close enough for Orochimaru to reach for it, to hold it in his own. He has privately fantasized about holding his hand for so long that it’s embarrassing, imagining its warmth and the roughness from handling kunai. The opportunist within his mind is urging him to hold that hand, but his reservations prevent Orochimaru from doing what he really wants. When would such a chance arise again? Wishing for a reality with Jiraiya that could never come to fruition, all that Orochimaru could hope for are hidden moments like these. A small, shameful blush rises his cheeks and burns him down to his own foundations, overwhelming him with bitterness, tempting him to action yet restraining him to indecision.</p><p> </p><p>But Orochimaru is not known for being indecisive.</p><p> </p><p>Without hardly any further thought, his hand darts over his sheets and blankets to grasp Jiraiya’s hand. He almost flinches when his fingers merely brush against his warm skin, as if he had startled himself by his own behavior, but a certain giddy-like feeling rises in him. Holding his hand is just as he fantasized, except it is more warm than he imagined. Orochimaru thinks he is drowning, thinks he is okay with drowning, thinks that he needs this more than breathing. </p><p> </p><p>“... ‘chimaru?” murmurs Jiraiya, rousing awake with sleep lingering in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru minutely freezes before smoothly recovering, still grasping onto his hand. He had already comprehended the possibility of waking Jiraiya from his slumber beforehand, and he has come too far to let go, he never wants to let go. “Jiraiya?” he questions hoarsely. “You fell asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, he pushes his upper body from the bed to look at Orochimaru with bleary eye, and then he glances down. “You’re holding my hand,” he murmurs, in a tone of mere observation, before his attention to returns to Orochimaru. “... Something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a nightmare,” he lies, rolls off his tongue with absolutely no inclination of deceit. His eyes are wide now as he takes in Jiraiya’s face, and, deep within Orochimaru, he hopes that Jiraiya will access that internal insight of his to see through all of his lies. <em>Look at me</em>, he wants to cry out in desperation, to scream at his face in demand of his recognition,<em> see me, know me as no one else does. </em></p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya doesn’t pull his hand free from Orochimaru as expected. Instead, Jiraiya gently squeezes his hand in a gesture that Orochimaru would find comforting if not for the inner turmoil raging through his mind. “Was it scary?” he asks softly. </p><p><br/>
“I hardly even remember it.” <em>You’re killing me, you’re killing me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Did holding my hand make you feel better?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose.” <em> I think I’m dying. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to keep holding it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It is no longer necessary.” <em> I’m dying. </em></p><p> </p><p>“You feel hot, Orochimaru. Did your fever get worse?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t believe so.” <em> See me</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll cook breakfast for the both of us. You’re hungry, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can eat.” <em> Jiraiya</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need help walking?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can manage.” <em> You’re killing me. </em></p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be delicious, I promise.” Jiraiya nods and withdraws his hand from Orochimaru’s hand, rising from his chair, and he stretches toward the ceiling, groaning his discontent from such an uncomfortable position. His departure, however momentary, wounds Orochimaru, but Jiraiya’s reassuring grin serves as his balm, no matter his wound’s severity. In a flash, Jiraiya is gone to his kitchen, and Orochimaru is alone in his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, the boy ambles from his bedroom to the bathroom and peers into the reflection of himself in the mirror. He sees himself, his pale visage flushed, struggling to breath and his throat straining and closing. Orochimaru grips the sink in a deadly vice, and the threat of flower petals spewing from his mouth overtakes him. He falls into another episode of coughing, but it’s different, more severe, more painful as it seems to reflect his heart tearing into shreds. Hunching and gasping for peace of mind and heart, more than one petal tumbles from his quivering lips into the sink. One after another begins to fall, and, for the first time, tears pool in his eyes and spill over his cheeks due to the sheer exertion required of him.</p><p> </p><p>He is lost in those woods again. Where is his light, Jiraiya? </p><p> </p><p>It’s dark. </p><p> </p><p>When a sense of reality returns to him, Orochimaru witnesses the bowl of flower petals before him, and he distantly registers the distressed voice of Jiraiya speaking to him, words in rapid succession. He can’t quite comprehend his words. Instead, his slitted pupils narrow on the disturbing sight of speckled blood patterns dancing with those petals, and he tastes iron in his mouth. There is a painted world of red before him. He feels dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>Then, suddenly, he loses track of reality once more upon feeling himself being lifted into the air, deeper into the woods. He blinks, his eyes unfocused and cloudy, wondering if he’ll ever find Jiraiya so that they could come home together. </p><p> </p><p>For now, there is no sun, and there is no moon.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. trust in my sleepless nights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i believe this may be the longest chapter written thus far, essentially showcasing tsunade being a badass with an early affinity toward medical thought</p>
<p>thanks, that's it, i hope it's good lmao</p>
<p>there's also a part of me that thinks that i should rewrite the summary for blooming heart, but idgaf yet so it shall stay until i do</p>
<p>i hope you all enjoy another chapter of Blooming Heart!! i enjoy knowing that it is making people happy, and i'd love and appreciate to see more comments and kudos, thank you</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tsunade rubs her eyes when her vision blurs from reading book after book, topics ranging from medical to botany, from history to herbology, in search of a cure for Orochimaru. After extensively analyzing the gathered samples of flower petals from Orochimaru over the course of a week, she can determine with certainty that the petals are by no means normal. However, considering that a person does not typically spit out plants from their bodies, that essential understanding is obvious to anybody with common sense. But while Tsunade does understand that this disease isn’t normal, she does not go so far as to claim that the disease is unnatural. Indeed, the old maid’s tale is more than story; the disease is a phenomenon that is exceptionally rare. If Tsunade is to hazard a guess, it is so rare that it should only occur once within a generation, or even less. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tsunade records her findings onto a piece of paper, along with her thoughts about the task at hand. She considers the process integral to her dogged work, a testament to her persistence to save one of her best friends, an organizational guide to keep herself honest and objective of the situation. It is remarkable to think that this illness would strike Orochimaru, out of all the people in Konoha—perhaps even the world—Tsunade writes, and it leads her to consider who Orochimaru is as a person.</p>
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<p>Orochimaru is a rather shy individual, even back then. In their Academy days, he was a gentle, softspoken boy that spoke his brilliant mind and desired friends like any other child, but he was often alone. Sometimes, the other children teased Orochimaru for his appearance, and those slit pupils were often the target of his peers’ bullying just because he looked different. That in and of itself was enough for those bullies, and Tsunade concedes that children can be quite cruel. Despite those challenges, Orochimaru separated himself from the pack as a true prodigy, excelling in academics, ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu and earning praise from the all of the Academy sensei.</p>
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<p>Just remembering the boy like this brings fond memories to Tsunade. After Jiraiya had once attempted to defend Orochimaru from his bullies, albeit unsuccessfully and needlessly because those bullies were greater in number and that Orochimaru could handle any of his own conflicts, he would follow Jiraiya and Tsunade everywhere around the village. While at first Jiraiya had found the boy’s persistent shadowing to be annoying, she had always found Orochimaru to be charming, polite, and just a little lonely. The three would play, eat, and train together, and he eventually grew on Jiraiya’s big, dumb heart. It was probably because Orochimaru was too cute to turn away, Tsunade thinks. </p>
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<p>But then his parents died in battle, and it changed him. Jiraiya became a good deal more protective of Orochimaru after that, even if he didn’t need or want it. It changed her, too. She also became more protective of Orochimaru, but she recognized that he simply wasn’t the same person anymore, not exactly, and often wondered if Jiraiya understood that. Orochimaru wasn’t necessarily unstable or broken by any means, but perhaps he was a little off, that difference becoming his new normal. Outwardly, he became less sweet, less emotional, and more... just different, but he was still their best friend no matter what had changed. They loved him.</p>
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<p>Tsunade frowns when she considers how fast Orochimaru had to grow up, alone in that big house of his. She presses onward with her thoughts, perhaps unwilling to think upon the subject of his parents any longer, to consider Orochimaru as a shinobi. Honestly, simply state, the boy is a genius, with many individuals before her inclining to agree. She isn’t certain how far she could go with this train of thought until a great and groundbreaking realization dawns onto her: all the sufferers of this disease in the old maid’s tale were ninja. </p>
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<p>How could she miss such an important detail like that?</p>
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<p>Her eyes widen at the thought, in both dismay for the time lost and eagerness for the progress gained, and her pen seems to move on its own upon the page with a flurry of hypotheses to save Orochimaru from death. Shinobi can utilize chakra in practical use to create several types of jutsu, but chakra is the manifestation of two energies, physical and spiritual, and requires experience honing and controlling it. Tsunade tentatively marks that a major disruption in either of the two energies that generate chakra could lead to unique problems, or manifestations, in the body, but Tsunade notes that the physical energy in Orochimaru should be relatively unphased since he trains religiously with their team. </p>
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<p>Emotional instability is causing the imbalance in Orochimaru’s spiritual energies required to generate chakra and is instead going wildly beyond the bounds of his strenuous control. In minute horror, Tsunade bites her lip as the possibility of those flower petals representing his chakra become more and more plausible. It serves as no wonder as to why neither Jiraiya or her could find anything worth a damn about these flower petals in any books or scrolls. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Those flower petals are physical manifestations of chakra literally falling out of his body. Orochimaru is losing chakra because of his emotional and spiritual imbalance, losing it <em> fast </em>, and his body is compromising its normal functions. It explains that horrible fatigue, the inability to revitalize his aching muscles, and the inability to mount a proper immune response to the fever Orochimaru has been unable to overcome in the past week. She can only hope that Orochimaru does not develop a true infection in the meantime. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Losing his only family to death, falling in love so young... affected Orochimaru deeply enough to disrupt just about <em> everything </em> for him. The death of his parents may be the beginning point of all this conflict, but the strength of love and the fear of it can resonate throughout generations in the forms of ballads and stories. Astounded, Tsunade leans back in her chair as she considers that boy in a new light, having no idea that Orochimaru could feel so deeply, so <em> intensely</em>. She is not so certain that she could comprehend the depth of it, but she can certainly try to understand it through this important work. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She taps her pen against the page again, fearing that Jiraiya might be <em> right </em> to believe that true love is the only cure to restore balance to his ailing mind. However, it isn’t that simple; feeling love for another person is not the same as having that love returned. If rejected, Orochimaru will die. Is that why he had refused to tell Tsunade who it was, that he didn’t want to take any chances? At this point, she can only speculate the many reasons that Orochimau could have, and she may not find a real and proper cure to correct his chakra imbalance.</p>
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<p>However, she can find the proper medicine for him.</p>
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<p>Tsunade is not aware of the night’s passing as she works long into the morning, and she only pauses when she hears a knock at her door. She rises from her bench to go answer the door, when she notices the sunlight beaming into her home through the windows. Again, she rubs her eyes and frowns, wondering what possible time it could be, but it all gives her a strange feeling. The morning is still, and the air feels oddly solemn. Tsunade shakes her head as she approaches the door, opening it to a tearful Jiraiya.</p>
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<p>Her heart drops, and she knows that something is very wrong.</p>
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<p>“Jiraiya?” She questions with caution in her voice, and perhaps with a bit of dread.</p>
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<p>“Tsunade, it’s Orochimaru,” he frets, with no preamble and no suggestion that he is cherry picking his words for her benefit. “I had to carry him to the hospital.”</p>
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<p>“W-What?” She stammers, edging onto panic.</p>
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<p>“He’s—he’s doing<em> bad</em>, Tsunade. One moment he was just <em> fine </em> and <em> walking, </em>but I found at least a dozen of those stupid flower petals and blood in his bathroom sink. I don’t think he even knew what was going on.”</p>
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<p>“We need to go back to the hospital, right now!” Tsunade steps forward, but then she curses beneath her breath, turning back into her home. “Wait there a moment, Jiraiya—”</p>
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<p>“We can’t wait, let’s go!” he snaps.</p>
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<p>“Just wait!” she snaps right back at him before she hurries to retrieve her notes, hoping beyond hope that her hard work will be of use to the medical-nin. Just as quickly as she left, Tsunade rushes out of her house and follows Jiraiya to the hospital, quelling the rush of tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks. Jiraiya doesn’t appear to be in any better shape. </p>
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<p>Tsunade never realized how far the hospital was until now, running with Jiraiya as quickly as their legs could carry them. It feels like they are enduring the slow passing of an entire age as they dart through the village, where the leaves of Konoha's abundant forests hiss instead of rustle, where the winds whisper instead of blow. Cheeks flush with effort, they race past the villagers, occasionally bumping and brushing against them without stopping to apologize, before taking to the rooftops. Every minute running is a minute too long, but Tsunade avoids thinking that every minute running is a minute too late.</p>
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<p>She is afraid, but she can’t imagine how afraid Jiraiya must be. Tsunade can’t imagine being in Jiraiya’s shoes, to be the one to find Orochimaru in such a terrible state and to hurry him to the hospital. Honestly, she can’t believe that Jiraiya left the building to find her, but she is beyond grateful for it.</p>
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<p>“Tsunade,” he shouts for her attention, “please tell me you found <em> something </em> to help Orochimaru.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” she responds breathlessly, “I think so.”</p>
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<p>That seems to satisfy Jiraiya, for now.</p>
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<p>By the time they arrive at the hospital, Tsunade and Jiraiya discover that Orochimaru already has his own room, but Tsunade is surprised to see Hiruzen standing outside that room with worry clearly in his tense shoulders. However, the surprise subsides as quickly as it appears; she should have known that word of the Hokage’s prodigal student arriving at the emergency ward for shinobi would have quickly traveled. The distance from her home to this place is rather unfavorably far.</p>
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<p>“Tsunade, Jiraiya.” Hiruzen straightens.</p>
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<p>“Sarutobi-sensei, how is Orochimaru doing?” asks Jiraiya, whose wide-eyed concern and wavering voice breaks Tsunade’s heart.</p>
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<p>Hiruzen presses his lips in a fine line, his brows furrowing. Tsunade notices how tired her teacher appears, as if he is bearing the weight of the entire world on his his back. That isn’t necessarily a hyperbole, because, as the Third Hokage, Konoha and the Land of Fire might as well be his whole world. She also notices that fine line of guilt in his eyes, and she senses that the guilt might stem from his conspicuous absence during Orochimaru’s illness. Childishly, she rages over what could possibly be so much more important than Orochimaru, his star pupil, their best friend, but the fear stifles her from outwardly reacting.</p>
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<p>“Whatever, I’m going to see him,” spats Jiraiya when Hiruzen doesn’t immediately answer, perfectly reflecting Tsunade’s thoughts. Jiraiya attempts to shove past Hiruzen to the door, but he snatches his younger student's wrist. The sheer speed at which Hiruzen grabs and stops Jiraiya in place stuns her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t, Jiraiya,” he warns. “The medical-nin are trying to stabilize your teammate at this very moment, and they don’t need any distractions at such a crucial time. Orochimaru is in a critical condition, so if you value his life, then you will wait here with me until we are given the green light.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tsunade frowns, sympathetic towards the other boy, but Hiruzen’s words force her to admit that he is right. </p>
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<p>The beginnings of a protest from Jiraiya’s mouth die in his throat, and he yanks his arm free from Hiruzen. A solemn silence falls over the team. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, Sarutobi-sensei?” she says with uncertainty, her voice cutting through the awkwardness. “Have the medical-nin told you anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hiruzen lingering gaze on Jiraiya eventually shifts to Tsunade. “I was told that whatever Orochimaru is suffering is highly unusual—a disease where an individual coughs out flower petals, mirroring that of a old tale I’ve personally heard long ago. However, they haven’t yet figured out how Orochimaru acquired such a disease, and it is unknown whether or not it was caused by an enemy attack.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tsunade shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I... I figured out what’s wrong with him.” Momentarily, she glances at Jiraiya, who is nodding at her with quiet, enthusiastic encouragement behind those eyes, reddened from withholding tears, before returning her attention to Hiruzen. “Sarutobi-sensei, we should have come to you sooner. Orochimaru has been sick for awhile, but we thought that we could handle it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hirzuen’s brows raise in question, waiting for her to continue. Wordlessly, Tsunade passes all of her notes, her work, her research to their sensei, her eyes downcast to the tiled floor at their feet. She can tell that Hiruzen is scrutinizing her research by the way his eyes scan the pages, and that he is consuming the provided information at a rapid pace. The world really does seem to slow to a crawl for Tsunade, and simultaneously her surroundings blur as Tsunade unconsciously holds her breath in anticipation for Hiruzen to speak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From down the hallway, a small team of two medical-nin rush through the hallway to arrive at Orochimaru’s door. Jiraiya and Tsunade scramble out of their way, and they try and fail to catch even a single glimpse of Orochimaru when that kunoichi opens the door. The bodies of other medical-nin already within the room obscure any visual indicators of Orochimaru’s presence, and Jiraiya is frantic to see the pale boy. Tsunade can’t imagine herself looking any better. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait,” suddenly interrupts Hiruzen to the kunoichi, catching everyone off-guard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lord Hokage?” The medical-nin questions, surprised by the delay that Hiruzen’s causing but remaining in place to receive orders. Her partner seems equally distraught, torn between remaining in place or pushing ahead into Orochimaru’s room with the rest of team. Her partner elects to leave when the Hokage neglects to address her, hurrying to Orochimaru’s side with the other medical-nin. Tsunade’s breath hitches when Hiruzen passes her notes along to the medical-nin, and a wave of hope washes over her turmoiling mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gravely but with certainty, Hiruzen orders, “Consider this information wisely. It could save the boy's life.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. please bare your heart for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>update delay because I had written myself into a corner, so I basically had to rewrite a nice chonk of the chapter</p><p>i feel much happier about it though now that i've gotten it all sorted out, and goodness gracious!! the hits and kudos and comments are so appreciated!! really helped to motivate me to overcome that weird, sulky writer's slump</p><p>As always, thank you for reading Blooming Heart, and please enjoy this latest chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jiraiya sighs, resting his cheek against the top of Tsunade’s head. She fell asleep a couple of hours ago while waiting to see Orochimaru, and his shoulder happened to be the perfect pillow for her. Before falling asleep, she had explained that she had pulled an all-nighter to learn that crucial information essential to Orochimaru’s recovery and then had explained what that information entailed to him. Now she deserves rest and a whole lot more, and, well, he doesn’t mind being a pillow for her at all, really. Honestly, Jiraiya thought that he would have been happy to have Tsunade sleeping against him, but he is far too focused on Orochimaru to enjoy her presence against his body.</p><p> </p><p>He feels depressed and useless again, despite trying to shove away these awful emotions. Jiraiya is not particularly good at hiding what he feels, practically wearing his heart on his sleeve, or maintaining his composure. Not like Orochimaru. He never realized how well Orochimaru could hide his feelings until this moment in their lives, where those emotions have bubbled over the rim of a thin glass bowl. The situation forces Jiraiya to wonder: if this is Orochimaru’s emotions overflowing that bowl, what would happen if the glass bowl was to shatter? Imagining an unhinged Orochimaru is already difficult, but an image of a dead Orochimaru is impossible to fathom. </p><p> </p><p>When he glances at the door, his stomach twists and turns, so he shifts his attention to Hiruzen, who is immersed in a deep conversation with a medical-nin down the hallway. He knows that he can’t hear them from this distance, but he strains to hear them anyway, ultimately failing to hear anything. He observes the immense concern that seems to radiate from Hiruzen and knows that the conversation can’t possibly be pleasant. Jiraiya frowns, because that most likely means that whatever news that the medical-nin has can’t be good news.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Hiruzen, followed by the medical kunoichi, returns to the anxious Jiraiya, who sits up a little straighter.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we see Orochimaru now, Sarutobi-sensei?” asks Jiraiya impatiently, beginning to rouse Tsunade from her sleep. </p><p> </p><p>Hiruzen turns to the kunoichi, who nods in response to the boy’s burning question. “It seems that we can,” he replies in a solemn tone, nodding his permission.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, Jiraiya sets upon waking Tsunade with such fervor that it startles himself. “Hey, princess, wake up! They’re letting us see Orochimaru now.”</p><p> </p><p>“They are?” Tsunade murmurs, shoving Jiraiya’s hands away so that she can sit upright on her own, and she rubs her tired eyes. “So... does that mean he’s okay then?” </p><p> </p><p>“For now,” confirms Hiruzen. “The team of medical-nin tended to Orochimaru using your research, Tsunade, and they were able to stabilized him. You should be proud of yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya admires that beautiful and sheepish grin on Tsunade’s face, but only for a brief second. This whole mood between Hiruzen and the medical-nin troubles Jiraiya considerably, and he feels the need to see Orochimaru for himself at this point. He needs to know that his best friend is okay, at least relatively so, with his own eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The white haired boy hops off the bench and approaches Orochimaru’s door with absolutely no hesitation, opening it and rushing inside to his bedside. Jiraiya hears the others follow behind him, but he doesn’t care about them. When he sees that pale boy shallowly breathing in his bed, alive but not truly invigorated with any energy, his heart stops. Orochimaru appears as if his body is wasting away, and while that could be due to his overactive and racing imagination, he personally knows that Orochimaru has eaten less than normal as of late. But, to his infinite surprise, Orochimaru is awake and baring his eyes upon his own, although he seems a little lost again. Jiraiya notices that distant expression with unease.</p><p> </p><p>While Jiraiya could note all of the details of the medical equipment, the basins, the gauzes, and the medicines surrounding the boy, he instead notices and reaches for Orochimaru’s hand, grasping the frail thing in his own. His call is tentative as he attempts to draw his attention to the living world, “Orochimaru?”</p><p> </p><p>That hand twitches in recognition, and, with time, too much time, Orochimaru’s glazed eyes become more focused in the present moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Jiraiya?” He rasps, willing the pain away from his expression.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Orochimaru,” says Jiraiya gently, comfortingly, as his other hand comes along to hold his hand as well. He feels lighter knowing that Orochimaru still feels very warm to the touch, feels alive in his palms. “How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“... Where am I?” Orochimaru asks, disregarding his question entirely with a flighty air about him.</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya frowns. “You’re in the hospital. I brought you here.” </p><p> </p><p>“Is that so?” Orochimaru hums, peering around and absorbing his surroundings. </p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya watches Orochimaru employ his eerily weird observational skills about the medical ward, but it seems like he is having genuine trouble focusing on anything. His eyes do not linger to absorb any detail, and Jiraiya notices just how dilated those slit pupils are, most likely heavily sedated with painkillers, or other medications. Faintly, perhaps even amusingly, the dilated pupils of his eyes strike Jiraiya as almost feline in nature, but he disregards the thought as quickly as it appears.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank goodness you’re alive,” sighs Tsunade in both disbelief and relief, causing Jiraiya to startle at her sudden presence beside him. To his slight embarrassment, he remembers that he is not the only individual in the room with Orochimaru and blushes.</p><p> </p><p>“Tsunade,” murmurs Orochimaru, responding to the sound of her voice moreso than her actual presence in the room.</p><p> </p><p>The medical-nin stands on the opposite side of the boy’s bed, gripping onto a clipboard, and she seems hesitant to speak but does eventually address Hiruzen. “It’s a little unheard of to use research from a genin, but with the notes provided to the medical team from young Tsunade per instruction from Lord Hokage, the team was able to stabilize Orochimaru due to the emergent need for more information.” </p><p> </p><p>“Clever girl,” slurs Orochimaru, praise falling from his mouth for Tsunade instead of flower petals.</p><p> </p><p>“Young Orochimaru is currently stable and fairing well with the medication administered to him, but he continues to suffer from ongoing chakra depletion. Due to his chakra depletion, it is compromising other of his bodily functions, accompanied by episodes of delirium.” The medical-nin frowns. “If Orochimaru’s chakra depletes entirely, then—”</p><p> </p><p>“Orochimaru will die,” murmurs Hiruzen.</p><p> </p><p>She nods, her frown turning grim. “That is correct, Lord Hokage.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya swallows hard.</p><p> </p><p>“What are our options?”</p><p> </p><p>“Orochimaru should remain in this hospital ward for the foreseeable future. Thus, per your permission as his legal guardian, Lord Hokage, the first option we recommend is to prescribe and administer experimental medicine and monitor Orochimaru for health improvements or detriments. With this type of medication, we are hoping to see a decrease in the rate at which his chakra depletion is progressing, if we can’t outright stop it.</p><p> </p><p>“However, any medication may only serve as a temporary solution for a much bigger problem, and that is <em> if </em> the experimental drugs will improve his health. If the medication proves more harmful than it is helpful, then we should evaluate... further options.”</p><p> </p><p>“Which would be?” Hiruzen gnaws on the inside of his cheek in apprehension.</p><p> </p><p>The medical-nin nervously glances at the two genin before she looks straight into Hiruzen’s eyes. “Perhaps this is a conversation we should have in private, Lord Hokage.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what? What do you mean—” Jiraiya barks, but Hiruzen raises his hand to interrupt him. He would have lashed out more aggressively, but the fear and the unwillingness to release Orochimaru’s hand stops him.</p><p> </p><p>Hiruzen shakes his head. “Proceed with the treatments, and let’s hope that that conversation needn’t happen. Besides,” he says, observing his students in the room, “I don’t think I can handle separating my students to have any private conversation right now.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Hiruzen remained at the hospital with his students for as long as he could before he had to go, which was somewhat disappointing to Jiraiya. Although, to his credit, Hiruzen didn’t leave until another ninja, some jounin, tracked and retrieved him from the hospital. Jiraiya understands that Hiruzen cannot be around all of the time; Hiruzen is a busy man.</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade left sometime after Hiruzen did, and Jiraiya could tell that she didn’t want to leave. She needed to sleep, and her body strained for consciousness for as long as it could. But Jiraiya reassured her that he wouldn’t leave Orochimaru anytime soon, and she was more or less content to return home to her family.</p><p> </p><p>For the entire day, Jiraiya observed Orochimaru cycle through the various stages of unconsciousness, confusion, and lucidity, and Jiraiya greatly preferred the latter. If Jiraiya could describe his lucid moments, he would tentatively describe Orochimaru as cautiously optimistic for someone in his tense situation. Yet in those strange and dreadful instances of delirium, Jiraiya would definitively describe Orochimaru as haunted, maybe even terrified. It truly hurt to watch, but he found that holding his hand really did set his friend at ease. The Orochimaru that he knew more easily returned to him. </p><p> </p><p>However, now, speaking with Orochimaru, who is awake and lucid at this very moment, strikes his heart with a strange, dull pain. His own confusion gnaws on his bones, sucking out his marrow and eating him alive. He has heard Orochimaru’s whimpers for his mother and father while he slept, but here he is now, all smart, dry wit, and morbid humor. Is Orochimaru actually as calm and collected as he appears, or is Orochimaru really that terrified on the inside?</p><p> </p><p>Tsunade determined that as much, he remembers, when she told him that Orochimaru feels emotions intensely. But it’s so difficult to tell on a surface level, even when Orochimaru is here in his own hospital ward for that very reason. While Jiraiya prides himself on being a people-person, capable of picking out what emotions people are feeling in the moment, he can’t help wondering how many times Orochimaru hides his true self away. Suddenly, Jiraiya wonders if that is what Orochimaru meant that night, walking him home after the trip to the bathhouse; maybe he needs to ask better questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you scared?” Jiraiya asks softly, and subconsciously his thumb strokes his the fair skin of his friend’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru’s eyes narrow, and Jiraiya thinks that he is going to ignore his question. But his expression does soften, to his surprise. “Not now,” he rasps, murmuring. </p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya nods. “Good. You don’t need to worry about anything, Orochimaru. Tsunade and I will take care of you, and she’s been an absolute blessing for us this entire time.”</p><p> </p><p>“A gift from the divine,” drawls Orochimaru, only somewhat sarcastic. </p><p> </p><p>“She saved your life, smartass,” he insists.</p><p> </p><p>“You sound a little insecure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well... Shit, I don’t know. I guess I just feel useless, and I feel bad because I feel useless. I just wish there was something more that I could have done for you, but I’m not as smart as her. Hell, she went home to sleep, but I bet that she’s trying to find the cure—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Jiraiya</em>,” interrupts Orochimaru, that raspy voice cutting through his rambling so easily.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widen in attention.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve rearranged your life to care for me, to help me walk and cook for me. You’ve watched over me to ensure that I didn’t choke while I slept. You brought me to the hospital, working <em> with </em> Tsunade to save my life. You are so much more than enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya is certain that it’s not just the words that bring peace to him, but the absolute conviction with which those words were spoken. It almost makes him cry, but he sniffs and tries to play it off.</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru grunts, hiding his blush behind his hair. “Water, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure.” Jiraiya rises from his seat to retrieve the nearby cup of water for Orochimaru, but he stops. “Hey, Orochimaru? You don’t need to hide anything from us. I mean, you know that you could tell me anything, right?”</p><p> </p><p>He is processing his words, remaining generally silent, and Jiraiya can tell his reassurances sink in when he slowly blinks. </p><p> </p><p>Regardless, Jiraiya helps Orochimaru drink his cup of water.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. don't wait on me to notice you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not gonna lie, I was typing out this chapter with the thought of reaching 2k words, but it seemed appropriate to end it short. i do apologize for my departure from this fic, as my depression does keep me from doing things I enjoy, but i do seem to manage to ring around again to work on it in time</p><p>so, thank you for all the comments!! they've helped inspire me to write out this chapter, and so i hope you enjoy it. again, thank you for all the kudos, hits, and comments. it's incredible!</p><p>hope you all had happy holidays and please do have a beautiful new year. </p><p>please enjoy the lastest chapter of Blooming Heart</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Orochimaru,” says the white haired boy with the playful voice. In his hand, the boy is holding a flower with red and white petals, and he is offering it to him. “I found this, and I thought of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Instantly, Orochimaru recognizes this as nothing but a dream, thick with the haze of disease, because he knows that Jiraiya would never think of him like this. </p><p> </p><p>Despite his stupor, Orochimaru recalls enjoying the pain of fantasy so seemingly long ago, and he indulges in this sweet agony. He reaches and receives the flower into his own hand, and he welcomes Jiraiya’s presence as if he was receiving an old friend. The feeling is almost silly in its impossibility, he thinks, for they are still young. Regardless, in the center of this improbable forest, Jiraiya sits beside him on the giant roots of giant trees. </p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya hunches forward, settling his elbows onto his knees and clasping his hands together. “So,” he starts, “still lost, Orochimaru?”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru twirls the flower between his fingers idly. “I don’t know how I could be with you by my side.”</p><p> </p><p>Charmed, Jiraiya grins and blushes at him. “Who knew the snake could flirt?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose one could say that I learned from you,” he drawls in an almost coy manner. “Such sentiments could not possibly exist within my day-to-day vocabulary without your influence.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya, still smiling fondly, does steer the conversation back to his original intent. “But you know what I’m actually talking about, right?”</p><p> </p><p>He stops twirling the flower in his hand and frowns. A pit of dread weighs heavy in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re hopelessly lost, Orochimaru. You won’t be able to find a way out of this forest without telling <em> me </em> how you actually feel.”</p><p> </p><p>Abruptly, Orochimaru rises from his seat and angrily tosses aside the flower, and the delicate thing falls from the giant root to the distantly far ground. “It seems that even my dreams have attained an awareness of how pitiful and pathetic I am as of late; I’m not safe here,” he scowls sourly.</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t talk like that about yourself,” protests Jiraiya, who also rises to his feet and raises his hands without the intent to offend, “but you know why, right?”</p><p> </p><p>The black haired boy narrows his eyes. “The medication.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s the medication coursing through your veins, healing the body but not the spirit. You’ve been in and out for awhile, but soon you’ll be standing again, fighting and training with us again. You’ll even be up to studying and reading again. But that also means something else.”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru turns his back to Jiraiya and hisses, “I suppose <em> you</em>, of all people, are going to tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Orochimaru, let’s not fight about this. I am telling you because you’re a stubborn asshole and sometimes you need a reality check. I am telling you because your subconscious is screaming at you, and this has been my only opportunity to get through to you. I’m telling you because I love you, but I am not real.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it,” he gasps, the breath catching in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a smart one. Honestly, I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know or haven’t figured out yet.” Jiraiya inches closer to him. “But as I was saying, you will soon be physically fine, but you’re going to be dead on the inside. Sure, the immense depth of your emotions will be the fuel that may keep you human for a long time, but eventually it will burn out. It will be as if you changed person, one without conscience or compassion, that neither Tsunade nor I would recognize.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have forever,” he softly speaks. Jiraiya is close enough to curl an arm around his shoulders. “Your heart is breaking, and I’m not going to catch on unless you tell me. So please, just tell me how you feel.”</p><p> </p><p>When Orochimaru peers around the forest, it never quite stays the same. There is no way to track where you’ve walked or the time of day as there are no sun and moon, and each turn seemingly leads to nowhere. In this eternal time within this forest woven by his own ailing mind, Orochimaru had been following this Jiraiya as if he was a shining beacon that would lead him out. However, when he shifts to look at Jiraiya, to really <em> look </em> at the other boy, he witnesses the shifting of the phantasmagoria and his own eyes upon the face of Jiraiya peering back at him.</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya tilts his head in thought. “Your mom and dad wouldn’t recognize you either.”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru’s silence is brief, but deafening and hurting. He doesn’t see it happen so much as feel it, but it feels as if the very roots of these agonized trees beneath his feet are writhing and clawing through the dirt. “That was cruel.”</p><p> </p><p>Jiraiya shrugs. “That medication is helping as much as it is hurting you, and that cruelty was a taste of what is to come by doing nothing. You are asleep, and, when you wake from this world, you need to bare your heart for <em> someone </em> to see.”</p><p> </p><p>Orochimaru closes his eyes and a shaky breath escapes his lungs. When his eyes open, he sees Jiraiya again, holding a red and white flower that he must have conjured from nowhere. This Jiraiya gently brushes a lock of his black hair back and tucks the flower in over his ear, and then all his thoughts turn bitter and hopeless.</p><p> </p><p>But, he wants more than this, and he supposes that this is what he needed.</p>
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